Julia got really quiet as Erin and Lulu waited for her to answer. Harlow waited too. She was genuinely curious. Once upon a time Harlow, Audrey, and Grace had been inseparable. Then the fire happened. Grace sunk into a melancholy silence and Harlow was ostracized. That left Audrey, who in the sudden absence of her two closest friends spent more and more time with Julia. If you studied the pictures they posted online—which Harlow did multiple times a day—you’d think they were not just best friends, but sisters.
Their group was silent as everyone waited for Julia to answer. Harlow wondered what Erin and Lulu were thinking. She figured either of them would relish the chance to take Audrey’s place and become Julia King’s new best friend.
“I don’t have a best friend,” Julia said, beaming around the group. “You’re all my best friends.”
They turned their attention back to the show, and after a few more minutes, Erin held up her phone and said, “Look.”
On the screen was a picture someone had posted of Audrey spinning her fiery baton, sparks shooting off into the darkness. Somewhere out in the crowd their classmates were posting pictures of her online, making Audrey’s debut as a circus performer more than real, captured online for everyone to see. Through the whitish glare illuminating Julia’s face as she stared at the picture, Harlow could see her lips pursed in a frown. Harlow glanced around at the audience, wondering how many of her classmates had snapped pictures of Audrey, and saw Erin’s crush, Lucas Carter, chatting with a couple of his friends.
She nudged Erin. “There’s Lucas, over in the middle of the second row.”
Erin didn’t look at the second row. She turned to stare at Harlow. “How do you know his name?”
“Oh, Lulu mentioned it earlier,” Harlow said hastily, trying to keep her voice down so Lulu wouldn’t hear. She was vaguely aware that the music had ended and a man in a black top hat and red coattails had appeared on the stage and was speaking.
“Earlier when?” Erin asked. She was looking right at Harlow, but not exactly. Harlow had the uncomfortable feeling Erin was actually staring at her mask. Like maybe she was wondering who was underneath it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a volunteer?” said the man in the black top hat.
Julia stood up. “Let’s go,” she told them.
Dutifully, everyone rose from their seats, but Harlow began to panic. What did they want the volunteers to do onstage? What if it involved taking off her mask? And besides that, Erin was now casting suspicious glances her way.
While everyone else filed quietly up the aisle behind Julia, Harlow turned and fled the other way toward the exit.
“I’m sorry, girls,” said the man in the black top hat. “But we only need one volunteer. Who will it be?”
Just before Harlow slipped outside the tent, she heard Julia answer in a clear, loud voice, “Me. Definitely me.”
24
Audrey
WHILE AUDREY SPUN AND TWIRLED, flames sparking on either end of her baton, the worries that had been pressing on her all night vanished, like they had never been there at all.
On the carousel she had wished something amazing would happen. And here she was, spinning like a professional circus performer! So many times she worried about saying the right thing at school. Wearing the right clothes. Doing all the right things at home—making sure that everything was running smoothly until her mother could come back and take over again. And for just a few moments, it felt good to stop caring about any of it. To do something different and wild and adventurous and fun. To not worry if she was doing the same routine as Lynn—to move and spin and twirl at her own pace.
The music ended and a voice over the loudspeakers called, “Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a round of applause for our fire twirlers?” A man holding a microphone stepped onto the stage. He was dressed in a black top hat and red coattails and grinned at the crowd. “I’m your host tonight, Mr. Electrico. And now, ladies and gentlemen, can I get a volunteer?”
Lynn began heading backstage. When Audrey went to follow her, Lynn said, “I have to get changed for my next act. Twyla usually performs the Bouquet. Can you cover for her still?”
“Definitely,” Audrey said. She was having the time of her life! Plus, she loved flowers. Her mother always used to gather bouquets of wildflowers in the summer.
While Mr. Electrico was choosing a volunteer from the audience, Audrey followed Lynn over to the side of the stage. Lynn grabbed a rack of knives that had been stashed under a blanket and plunked them into Audrey’s hands.
“What’s this?” Audrey whispered.
“The Bouquet. You can’t have a knife throwing contest without knives.”
“Knives? But I figured—never mind.” Audrey thought for a second. “What am I throwing them at?” She had terrible aim.
Lynn seemed to think she had a wonderful sense of humor, though, because she threw back her head and laughed. “Have fun out there,” she called as she slipped backstage.
“And now—will someone bring me the Bouquet?”
Audrey stepped forward and held up the rack of knives. The audience cheered and she smiled widely. For a brief instant she wondered again if her mother was in the crowd, watching her.
She walked the knives over to Mr. Electrico, passing the volunteer from the audience—who turned out to be Julia! Audrey waved, receiving a thin smile from Julia in return, but inside she was disappointed. She thought she’d get to throw the knives, not just carry them out onstage so Julia could throw them.
“Here you go,” she said to Mr. Electrico. She turned to head offstage when he stopped her.
“Pssst. Where do you think you’re going?”
Audrey stopped. “What?”
He pointed to the opposite wall where the outline of a person was drawn in thick white chalk against a black background. “Take your place.”
“My place?” Audrey repeated, alarm sounding in her voice. “You mean, you’ll be throwing the knives at me?”
“I won’t.” He pointed to Julia. “She will. She needs a target. . . . Don’t look so spooked, Red. It’s all fake. She can’t hurt you.”
Audrey glimpsed the determined look on Julia’s face; she wasn’t so sure about that. Audrey stepped in front of the chalk outline and spread her arms, hoping she wasn’t making the biggest—and possibly the last—mistake of her life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, don’t try this at home!” Mr. Electrico said, and the audience roared with laughter.
Audrey wasn’t in a laughing mood. From across the stage she could see Julia, armed with knives, and she didn’t look good-natured at all. She looked downright dangerous, and Audrey couldn’t help wondering again if Julia was mad at her. She’d been keeping a mental catalog of every single thing she’d done in the last few weeks, and now, as Julia took aim, Audrey mentally flipped through it.
“Ready . . . Aim . . . Fire!”
Julia hurled the knife. It spun end over end, straight toward Audrey . . . until it pulled to the side, landing just outside her elbow. That’s when she understood: magnets. Somehow, the knives weren’t actually real, but magnets. Mr. Electrico was right; they couldn’t hurt her.
After Julia had thrown the last knife, she was dismissed back to the crowd and Audrey bowed to the audience.
Tricia was waiting for her backstage, and she didn’t look happy. “What on earth did you think you were doing?” she snapped. “Do you honestly think we let kids join the show?”
“No,” Audrey said. “I just, I don’t know . . . I just wanted . . .”
“What?” Tricia said. “You just wanted what?”
“I just wanted people to see me,” Audrey blurted out.
Tricia sighed. “Most people do.”
Audrey turned to leave and Tricia called, “Hey, did you find your mother?”
“Not yet,” Audrey called back. Not yet.
25
Grace
GRACE WAS VAGUELY AWARE SHE and Diego were holding hands as they ra
ced through the carnival, but she was too scared to care. She had never disobeyed her mother so blatantly before; she was going to be in so much trouble.
“Where are we going?” Diego yelled.
“I don’t know,” Grace yelled back.
Grace herself might not have known where they were going, but her feet knew exactly what they were doing. They carried her—still pulling Diego along—outside the iron gates and the brightly lit grounds of the carnival. Moonlight frosted the wheat fields beyond, turning everything an eerie silver color. The sudden silence and absence of color made it feel like they’d traded one reality for another.
Traveling to an alternate reality was the best explanation for where she found herself now, holding Diego’s hand as they slowed down to a walk. A thrill passed through her, and Grace could feel her cheeks beginning to burn. They glanced at each other at the same time and pulled their hands away.
“Do you believe me now?” Diego said quietly as they continued to walk.
“I believe you,” Grace said. “How long have they been dating?”
“Not long, I think. They got to talking because they both missed your—” Diego stopped suddenly. “Anyway, they’ve been going out every Friday night.”
“That can’t be right.” Grace shook her head. “Friday nights my mom goes to her book club.”
“Are you sure about that?” Diego asked quietly.
Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure. When was the last time she’d seen her mother actually read a book?
“Maybe not,” Grace said, and Diego nodded.
“I’m pretty sure they drive over to Fairvale most Friday nights,” he said. “They didn’t want anyone in Clarkville to start gossiping about them.”
“Or tell me,” Grace said.
“Or tell you,” Diego agreed. He stopped walking. “Now what? Should we go back to the carnival?”
Just then Grace’s phone began ringing. She didn’t have to check the screen; she knew it had to be her mother. Nobody else actually called her; all her friends preferred to text.
“I can’t go back, not yet.” Grace knew her mother. She’d spend the rest of the evening hunting Grace down. She’d check every ride, break up every clique. She wouldn’t rest until Grace was safely back at home, grounded for the rest of her natural-born life.
“So, where to, then?”
“Straight ahead,” Grace said, suddenly sure she’d known where they were going the minute she grabbed Diego’s hand.
“What’s straight—” He stopped and looked at her when he understood. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Grace said.
The wheat field came to an end and the ground sloped sharply upward. On the other side of the hill, like it had been waiting for them all night, were the remains of the Carlson Factory. She began striding down the hill, Diego following behind her.
She hadn’t been here since before the night of the fire. There wasn’t much left now. Just charred wood and blackened steel and thick marks scarring the ground. In Grace’s mind it all ignited with a loud pop, orange embers shooting into the night, and for a brief moment she wondered what the fire really looked like last year.
Because of course she hadn’t been there. She’s been asleep in her own bed, unaware her life was going to change forever.
“I heard Mr. Carlson has people in town tonight,” Diego said as they both stared at the wreckage. “That he might be getting closer to getting it rebuilt.”
Grace wanted to say she didn’t care if it ever reopened. The factory was the reason why she’d lost her father, and as far as she was concerned the ground they were standing on could remain a pile of ash and busted steel forever.
But the world kept turning—even when you didn’t want it to—and Grace knew a lot of families in Clarkville were hurting.
Broken glass littered the grounds, glistening in the moonlight, and they picked their way through it carefully until they came upon an old padlocked steel trunk. It was charred now, but still intact.
“Wow,” Diego said, crouching level with the trunk. “What do you think is inside?”
Grace lowered herself beside him. “I know what’s inside.”
Unfortunately, neither of them had experience with picking locks; instead, Grace picked up a big rock and raised it over her head. “Here goes nothing,” she said.
Three strikes later and the lock was out. Grace lifted up the top of the trunk and removed a bat, a mitt, and a baseball.
“Whoa,” Diego said. “What’s all this?”
“Mr. McKinley’s old sports equipment,” Grace said. “He kept it in his office for Audrey, me, and Harlow to play with.” And play with it they had, until Audrey and Harlow lost interest. Back before Harlow became popular. Before boys became, well, boys, and everyone got a cell phone and everything began to change. Back when both Mr. McKinley and Mr. Carlson seemed like second and third fathers to her and their families spent tons of time together.
“Want to play?” Grace asked.
“What—you mean right now?” Diego asked.
“Yeah—just for a few minutes. You pitch and I’ll bat!”
“Well . . .” Diego looked back at the carnival.
“Please?” Grace said quickly. “I promise we won’t be that long.”
With one more glance over his shoulder, Diego said, “Okay, sure.”
They walked out onto the factory’s parking lot—a couple weeds were sprouting from cracks in the pavement—and Grace handed Diego the ball and the baseball glove. “Let’s see what you’ve got!” she said.
Turned out he didn’t have much. Like his father, Diego was a lousy pitcher. Each time he threw the ball, Grace cracked it over his head and he’d have to go chasing after it. Grace ran too, imagining herself flying past first base, then second, then third. As she ran, something caught her eye where the parking lot met the edge of the factory grounds. Among the silvery shards of broken glass Grace saw something winking gold. She stopped and crouched down to get a better look, and a thrill passed through her when she realized what it was—a Clarkville state championship baseball ring. It was sitting in a pile of ashes, as shiny as ever, like it had never been touched by the fire. Grace held it up to the moonlight and squinted. There it was—an inscription on the inside. HC for Henry Chang. It was her dad’s ring, missing for nearly a year.
Grace slid it onto her finger. It was far too big, and the metal felt cool on her skin. She remembered the pride on her dad’s face when he talked about the state championship game, and how it meant even more to him because he got to share it with his two best friends: Russ Carlson and Jimmy McKinley.
“What’s that?” Diego said, coming up behind her.
“Something my dad left behind,” Grace murmured. And something Grace would have had to leave behind—a piece of her dad’s story—if she hadn’t found it. But here it was now in her trembling hands, like the carousel had decided to grant her wish.
If the carousel could grant one of her wishes, could it grant a second?
“Let’s go back,” Grace said.
“Okay.” Diego nodded.
“I need to figure out a way to avoid my mother,” Grace said as they turned around and began walking back.
“Why?” Diego asked.
“Because I’m grounded—I wasn’t supposed to go to the carnival.”
Diego pursed his lips and thought for a second. “I could text all my friends and tell them to keep an eye out for our parents—kind of like our own reverse spy service. If we know where they are, then we know where not to go.”
“I like it,” Grace said, as they began climbing the hill again. “I need to stay at least until midnight.”
“Why midnight?” Diego asked.
Grace almost told him about the pumpkin gram right then, but she didn’t. She wanted to hold onto the fantasy for a little bit longer in her imagination—that when she showed up to the Ferris wheel at midnight Diego would be standing there waiting for her and tell h
er he had sent it. But she knew he hadn’t.
Still, Grace figured it never hurt to dream a little.
26
Harlow
2 HOURS TO MIDNIGHT
AFTER LEAVING THE SHOW, HARLOW decided to take a few more photos of the carnival. She captured a couple great moments: A cute couple licking the sides of a dripping ice-cream cone; a puppeteer making his marionette dance while a bunch of children looked on.
Just as she finished snapping a photo of a mime talking on his cell phone, a couple of Harlow’s classmates walked by. The also had their phones out. “I’ll bet Harlow Carlson picks her nose all the time,” one of them said, and the rest laughed. Harlow, forgetting for a second that she was wearing her mask, instinctively turned away so they wouldn’t see her.
She dreaded showing up to school on Monday morning. Maybe she’d ask her mother if she could stay home sick. Or maybe she’d show up to school in her mask and never take it off ever again. If everyone thought her real face was so ugly, maybe she’d just wear a fake one for the rest of her life.
“Step right up,” a carnie standing in front of a board of inflated balloons said after she snapped a picture of him. “Five bucks gets you seven darts. Pop seven balloons and you’ll win a prize.”
“Dare you to pop all seven,” said a voice in her ear. Ethan.
“Hi!” Harlow said as she paid for the darts. “Are you puke-free now? Or should I keep my distance?”
“That’s funny,” Ethan said. “Real hilarious.”
Harlow shrugged. “It’s not my fault you ate all those chili fries.”
“It is, actually. You dared me to do it.”
“And you just automatically say yes to every dare?” Harlow said, although she already knew that was mostly true. That’s partly why Ethan got in trouble so much. She threw three darts in quick succession. Pop, pop, pop! “What if someone dared you to jump off a bridge?” she asked.
He grinned. “Depends on how tall the bridge was.”
“Real smart, Ethan,” she said, throwing another three darts. “That’s a stellar intellect you’ve got there.” She threw her last dart, popping another balloon. “Yes! That’s number seven!” She turned to him, her arms raised triumphantly, but he was staring back at her, a suspicious look in his eyes.
The Carnival of Wishes & Dreams Page 10
